OK, this man is not really a teen, either; but, hey, he's great! Can you top his recitation? Send us your performance!
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Teen Challenge: 'Death Be Not Proud' by John Donne
Yup, we need a teen doing a vid of this one, too. In the meantime, watch Julian Glover and prepare to be inspired!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Teen Challenge: Love's Philosophy by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Teens, can any one of you rival John Doyle's reading of this poem? Send in your video (serious entries, only; no snarky stuff, please).
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Teen Challenge: The Daffodils by William Wordsworth
I could listen to this Youtube poster all day. His tone and expression are so touching, don't you think so? We need a video of a teen doing this poem
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Adult Challenge: "The Village Blacksmith" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Jonathan F. Jones does a great job here, but I much prefer videos that show you, our readers, performing the poetry for us. Well, how about it? Will you be the one to send me the definitive Classical Reciter video of "The Village Blacksmith?"
Monday, December 31, 2012
The Village Blacksmith Challenge
Below is the poem. I need a good YouTube video of someone, preferably an adult, reciting this poem. After you upload your vid to YouTube, post the link here in the Comment form.
You can do it!
The Village Blacksmith
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And bear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his haul, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
You can do it!
The Village Blacksmith
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And bear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his haul, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
Friday, December 28, 2012
The Classical Reciter book, now available!
It's here, both in print and as an oh-so-affordable ebook. Get your own copy of The Classical Reciter, and start practicing for that video that is going to make you the next online poetry sensation!
Print edition...
http://www.amazon.com/Classical-Reciter-Gail-McGaffigan/dp/1481853775/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1356717772&sr=1-2&keywords=Classical+reciter
Kindle or other e book reader edition...
http://www.amazon.com/The-Classical-Reciter-ebook/dp/B00ATWDH7W/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1356717640&sr=1-1&keywords=Classical+reciter
I can hardly wait to see your video of one of these great poems. Get busy!
Sincerely,
Gail
Print edition...
http://www.amazon.com/Classical-Reciter-Gail-McGaffigan/dp/1481853775/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1356717772&sr=1-2&keywords=Classical+reciter
Kindle or other e book reader edition...
http://www.amazon.com/The-Classical-Reciter-ebook/dp/B00ATWDH7W/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1356717640&sr=1-1&keywords=Classical+reciter
I can hardly wait to see your video of one of these great poems. Get busy!
Sincerely,
Gail
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